Canvas Man

I once saw myself to be a bystander in no one else’s story. I was there, obsolete, silent, watching the world unfold around me, witnessing what my peers were experiencing, but not having any of that for myself. I was tired of being a supporting role in my own life, adding to other people’s conversations, assisting people when they might need it, but never bringing anything to the table myself.

I didn’t feel like I had any identity as an individual, I relied on the people around me to define who I was and I hated it, I couldn’t stand the fact that when I was alone, I knew nothing about myself that was uniquely mine, that I had created a version of my self that was only a convoluted mosaic of the people I associated myself with.

It took me a long time to come to terms with the fact that I wasn’t entirely a unique individual. That although I had a mixture of physical traits that made me intriguing, I didn’t have the personality that supported that. I realized it was fine to inherit these traits from those around you but to keep an eye on what those are.

I found myself adopting unhealthy mentalities that I drew from those I looked up to, these forced me to reflect heavily upon what I had become, I was no longer true to myself, I became a canvas upon which my peers could splash their negativity, and I would mindlessly carry it around, displaying it for everyone to see.

It took me a long time to rid myself of the bad habits I had accumulated. I was alright with adopting traits from other people that I respected, I realized that that process is fundamental to our growth as individuals and not detrimental to it as I had originally thought. I realized instead that the issue I had was that I was adopting traits that I didn’t like in an attempt to somehow further my personal development without considering the fallout of these actions.



An Editorial on Milk

There are many unanswered questions pertaining to human history. What was the first language? Why do we feel emotions? Exactly where did the first human come from? Yet one question rules over the rest, hovering over the heads of puzzled scientists. Why do we drink milk? Or, more specifically, who in the hell thought to pull on a pink dangling thing underneath a cow, see white stuff come out, and then DRINK IT? Sure, whoever this individual was, their logic wasn’t completely flawed, as humans spend the first year of their life drinking milk. But it could have gone very poorly.

Most likely the first Milkman was in fact a male, as men tend to have more dumb ideas than women. So this person happened to luck out by choosing a cow. It’s possible that he could have stumbled upon a cat and decided to milk it, which would likely have yielded fruitless yet harmless results. But say he had decided to milk a horse, or even worse, an alligator. The future of humans would have been drastically different. No milk means no Marie Antoinette saying “let them eat cake.” No milk means a race of people who don’t exceed 4 feet.  No milk means no mid-class gastrointestinal issues from Aaron.

Thankfully, the Milkman chose a cow. Now, imagine if you lived in a small community of 30 or so people, who may or may not have had language, and largely depended upon each other for resources. You have been living tranquilly in a temperate valley for the past 20 years, and in two years you will be old and die. Suddenly, Thag, the town fool rushes into your village holding a handful of white liquid, some of which appears to be dripping down his beard, a wild and crazed look in his eyes. Of course, you might assume the worst. But he tells you to drink it too, for it tastes good; and lo, it is, and rejoice! for Milk has been discovered. Soon, there will be cookies, ice cream, Got Milk? posters, and of course, yogurt. A revolutionary discovery has been made, and the world may never be the same again. So thank you, Milkperson, for not trying to milk an Emu. We appreciate it.

Credit: ThoughtCo

living in deep mountain

The meaning of life is to try everything that you have not tried yet.

Maybe this is the reason why I am here right now.

I grew up in a big, big city that has numerous tall, tall buildings with lots and lots of people.

Somehow, I decided to come here, the Ojai Valley, a year ago. And I got into a school where there are no buildings that have a second floor with less than two hundred people in total.

photo credit:

After living here for days, I am starting to feel that I am part of nature. What a weird thought this is, and I have never had such an idea before. 

Especially on the camping trip, we just slept in sleeping bags, and considered the sky as the quilt with the ground as the bed. 

And with fewer people, there are fewer distractions. I have plenty of quiet time to sit outside in nature, to be deep or lost or sunk in reverie.

Also, I have had the chance to watch the sunset since we have some free time after dinner. This is a really incredible experience to enjoy the sight of clouds and sky change their color and shapes slowly and fast.